


what do you see in the glass?

by certifiedclown



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Prey (Video Game 2017)
Genre: Alex Yu is a Good Brother, Angst and Feels, Bad Parent Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has Feelings, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has PTSD, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has Panic Attacks, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Illnesses, Isolation, Male Morgan Yu, Morgan Yu Is A Typhon, POV Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Panic Attacks, Poor Connor, References to Depression, Sad Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Stranded, Supernatural Elements, connor just literally took typhon morgans place, connor will find this out, connor will have issues with her because trauma, hes just confused okay, i just like to hurt him, it isnt a simulation in my version, it's weird but it'll be good i swear, the typhon aren't that bad, this fic will be no different, well they are but for good reason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20413942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifiedclown/pseuds/certifiedclown
Summary: There is one matter weighing even more heavily on him than how he got here though and that is a simple question; why does everyone seem to think he's Morgan Yu?





	1. Chapter 1

_ "Good morning, Morgan. Today is Monday, March 15, 2032." _

Connor exits stasis slowly, his head lolling to the side as curtains slowly raise to sear the bright sunlight into his optical units. He squints and grabs his alarm clock - or is it a phone - turning it off with a touch of his finger. He's barely gotten up when someone calls him.

"Morgan, get up. You're burning daylight," a man's rough, almost unclear, voice crackles through the inferior tech. 

The ID displays Alex Yu. 

He doesn't know who that is.

With a blink, Connor connects to the device and copies its information into his code, idly wondering where he is and if he's still dreaming. The man's voice is much clearer now, devoid of audio feedback. 

"I'm sending a helicopter to pick you up. It's just a few tests. Don't forget to wear your suit. See you soon. Oh..listen. I uh..it's great you'd decided to come onboard. We're gonna shake things up, Morgan, like old times."

> **NEW OBJECTIVES:**

  1. > **INVESTIGATE APARTMENT**

  2. > **FIND OUT WHERE YOU ARE**

Connor blinks again, slightly ruffled, and carefully throws his legs off the side of the bed, standing up in one quick movement. He scans the apartment and several items light up. He sets out to investigate. 

The first area he looks over is the kitchen area. He finds a note on the counter as well as some very vintage wine. Connor takes the wine, more than a little curious, and reads the note.

> _ Congrats, Morgan! _
> 
> _ \- Alex _

Connor frowns at this and sets out to explore the rest of the kitchen. He only finds food - a surprisingly scarce amount - and useless books. He then goes over to what appears to be a work area and takes the useless - recyclable - items from the desks. Then he sets his eyes on the computer. He blinks at the name there, feeling as though he shouldn't be surprised.

_ Morgan Yu.  _

He frowns and hacks into the computer, scanning over its contents quickly. He finds a few emails of interest, but nothing that tells him why  _ he  _ is here. There's one email extremely interesting as he doesn't recognize several words in it.

> _ Hey. I sent a package with everything you'll need for your first day. Uniform, Transcribe, and a Neuromod. Install the Neuromod right away, as we'll be running some tests first thing in the morning. Just follow the instructions. I'll be in touch. _
> 
> _ \- Alex. _

Connor frowns once more - he seems to be doing that  _ a lot  _ recently - and turns his head slightly to glare at the rectangular device on the nightstand. He scans it and is pleased to find the word Transcribe inscribed on the back. Finally, he's getting somewhere. 

Quickly, he tries to connect to the internet and - while successful - fails to send a distress signal to Markus and the others. It looks like he's truly stuck here.

He sighs, more than a little annoyed, and moves on to explore the rest of the apartment. When he finds nothing else that pertains to his current investigation, he circles back to the front door and grasps the uniform in one hand. After some hesitation, he slips into it and pockets the Transcribe, feeling as if he will need it for appearances while he's stuck with these people. 

There is one matter weighing even more heavily on him than how he got here though and that is a simple question; why does everyone seem to think he's Morgan Yu?

The door opens easily at his push, something that makes Connor raise an eyebrow at, and he steps out of the room into a clean, well-lit hallway. A maintenance woman waves at him cheerily and he's shocked that she's human - even after the revolution androids still worked jobs dealing with electricity as humans weren't very good at it. 

"Good morning, Mr. Yu!" she says cheerfully with a wide smile and he bites back a protest. He isn't the place nor time. This poor woman is likely innocent in all of this and even if she's not, she's more than likely low on the corporate ladder - barely even worth his time. 

He walks passed her briskly, but even sparing her a glance, and follows the hall to an elevator. He scans his environment once more, noting the false walls with a quick nod, and steps into the fake elevator. 

The AI inside thanks him - Morgan? - and displays the floor levels he’s apparently passing. Connor isn’t fooled like a human undoubtedly would be. He’s a state of the art prototype android - Cyberlife, no, Amanda’s best - and he can’t be tricked so easily.

His tentative trust for Alex Yu deteriorates rapidly.

Soon, once the false rooms are done rearranging, the elevator releases him from its clutches and he steps out onto a roof, squinting at the admittedly realistic sun. However, after a quick scan, he realizes this isn’t attributed to any actual talent - it’s the work of a Looking Glass system. 

Connor wipes his face of emotion as he steps into the helicopter, idly wondering why these people have sophisticated tech when the date is 2032. The Looking Glass wasn’t developed until 2034. Suspicion wells up in Connor’s chest and, as the helicopter's landing, he retreats into his mind palace and searches his programming.

He's more than a little shocked to find out that the date  _ is _ , in fact, Monday, August 15, 2032. Mostly, he's scared.

> **WHERE AM I?**

The door to the helicopter opens and he steps out quickly, striding through the roof access door with a single-minded purpose. He stops briefly to examine the scientist operator floating in front of the elevator, vague curiosity forcing him to scan the machine and file it away. Once he's done that, he enters the elevator and waits to be let out on the appropriate "floor."

"Morgan, finally!" a large man in a suit identical to his greets happily wu th slight exasperation. A quick scan reveals his name to be Alex Yu. Connor approaches him cautiously. He opens his mouth to refute the man's assumption of his identity, but he's interrupted.

"Hey," Alex says once he's closer, eyes considering, "you don't look terrible in a Transtar uniform. How's your eye? Still red?"

Hopelessly confused, Connor shakes his head, but before he can get a word in the man interrupts him.  _ Again. _

"I know the tests might seem…..a little unconventional, but it's a Yu family tradition," he says, soft and apologetic as if he and his brother had argued over said tests before. Then his voice changes to encouraging. "Breaking convention is in our blood. Once you start the tests, just do whatever comes naturally. Don't overthink it. Dr. Bellamy is going to walk you through the process. You're in good hands. Well be in orbit next week, I promise."

Connor staggers where he's standing and swallows, his mouth arid. In shock, he mouths, "in orbit?" incredulously to himself. His "brother" doesn't seem to notice. 

> **I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE**

The man at the desk that Connor had waved off as insignificant speaks up.

"Mr. Yu?" he says. "They're ready for your brother in room A."

Alex Yu nods. "Right. Listen, just be yourself, alright? I'll see you after."

Connor nods blankly and forces his feet to carry him to room A. He's too shocked to do anything else but follow orders - his programming taking over as he recovers from the emotional shock.

> **I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE **

Room A is bare unless you count the button at the back of the room and the red circle with movable platforms. Connor strides to the front of the room and raps his knuckles against re glass, mind still strangely fuzzy. 

A balding man - Dr. Bellamy - turns away from his colleagues and smiles at him. Connor's ears are ringing and his eyes prickle strangely. He feels weightless and incorporeal. He's not here.

"Good morning, Morgan, I'm Dr. Bellamy," the man smiles again and Connor feels floaty. "It looks like we have some tests to run through today. Probably not the kind of thing you're used to, I imagine, but, trust me, you're going to do fantastic."

Connor nods obediently and spins on his heel, taking large steps back to the button. He looks at the ground as he walks, blinking rapidly when it seems like his feet are sinking unit the tile. He shakes his head and faces the man expectantly, nervous energy pooling in his middle and rendering him jittery.

The man smiles again and the rest of the tests are a blur, well, that is, until they get to the last one.

Connor's seated, staring at a computer displaying inkblots. Dr. Bellamy looks at him with that same smile that makes Connor want to eat glass. Connor looks away briefly and pauses when he sees a flash of black mist.

There are two coffee cups on the desk now.

His mouth is moving, Connor realizes, dimly. With far too much effort, he focuses on the man's lips and reads them. 

"Is this my coffee?" Dr. Bellamy says soundlessly. "It's empty."

The cup glitches and suddenly there's a black, spider-like goo? attacking the man. His screams are loud, echoing in Connor's ears. Green mist - sedatives - seeps into the room and Connor jumps out if his seat.

Dr. Bellamy screams. Gunshots ricochet. Connor reacts without thinking. 

He picks the chair up and throws it at the glass, shattering it easily. Then he jumps through and grabs at the black, shimmery, slime-like substance that makes up the organism attacking Dr. Bellamy.

With one movement, he's ripped the creature off of the human and thrown it at a wall. It impacts with a loud thud, black ichor clinging to the wall where it hit, and wriggles slightly. 

Connor doesn't trust it's dead or even injured. It's probably only mildly shocked if even that. It is entirely possible it could be faking. He doesn't know how intelligent these creatures are just yet, but he will.

He can't take that chance, so he turns to the man holding the gun - security, most likely - and confiscates it. The man shouts, but Connor ignores him. He steps towards the creature purposefully and aims the gun at it.

He rests his finger on the trigger and with one small, almost imperceivable motion plants a bullet in its black mass. He repeats this motion until the black ichor seeps out of it like thick oil. Only then he's sure it's dead.

"Morgan," Alex shouts, racing into the room, eyes wide and frantic. Connor turns to face him with cold, calculating eyes.

The gun is aimed at the man's head.

"My name," he grits out, ignoring the gasps that fill the room, "isn't Morgan."

> **I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE**


	2. Chapter 2

A deafening silence fills the room and the static in Connor’s audio processors returns with a vengeance. He winces at the _ loudloudloudit’stooloud _sound and raises one hand up to his temple - where his LED is. But his fingers meet nothing but smooth, unblemished skin.

His LED is gone.

His temple is completely devoid of any abnormalities - like a human’s should be. But this is an abnormality. He isn’t human, he’s far from it actually. He’s an android - _ “my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.” _\- and he doesn’t belong here.

> **I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE**

His LED is gone, his audio processors are malfunctioning, and he’s stuck in a world where everyone is convinced his name is Morgan Yu with no obvious way out.

> **NEW OBJECTIVE: ESCAPE**

"Morgan?" the man - Alex Yu - asks, his eyes concerned. Connor lets the hand at his temple fall to join the other in the gun and snarls. Alex raises his hand up, palms facing Connor. He inches closer. "Put the gun down."

Connor cocks the gun. "One more step and I'll blow your head off."

He stops and Connor allows himself to relax - however marginally that may be. He preconstructs an escape route and calculates his chances of succeeding. 85% - a very high chance of success, but he can't quite rule out the remaining 15% just yet. 

He needs to be careful. He's more than strong enough to take care of these humans, but he doesn't know what kind of weapons they may be hiding. He can't afford to lose.

"Where am I?" he asks harshly.

"You're inside the testing facility at Transtar," Alex answer smoothly - too smoothly, his heart rate is slightly elevated - brows crinkling. "C'mon, Morgan, you know this."

"I said," Connor forces passed his gritted teeth, slow and soft, "my name isn't Morgan."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dr. Bellamy's hand slip into one of his lab coat's pockets. A quick scan reveals the contents of said pocket: a Transcribe and a pack of nicotine patches. Connor shoots the wall next to the scientist's head.

"If you would be so kind as to remove your hand from your pocket, doctor," he says, eyes narrowed even as the man complies with a stricken look of terror on his pallid face. "Thank you."

Dr. Bellamy nods placatingly, but Connor still checks the network for any SOS messages. When he finds none, he relaxes once again. However, now that he's thinking about it, he should probably alert everyone to the danger. 

Quickly, he sends a message to the network for all to see with an image of the dead creature attached. Before he turns away from Bellamy to face his "brother," he deactivates the man's Transcribe. 

"What is this species called?" he asks, eyeing the inky mass for a brief moment. "Is it an alien lifeform or man-made?"

Alex blinks, quite obviously flabbergasted. "They're called Typhon. We first made contact in 1969."

Aliens then. Okay, Connor can deal with that.

"You already know this, Morgan," Alex insists. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

Rage consumes Connor and he shouts, "I'm not Morgan!"

He closes his eyes and breathes harshly through his nose, counting backwards from 100 to regain some semblance of calm. Finally, he opens his eyes to meet Alex's gaze once more. 

"I won't say it again," he says lowly and Alex nods.

"What's your name then?" Alex asks. And Connor desperately wishes he was home.

"My name is Connor and I want to know why the hell I'm here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but I tried, okay? I couldn't write anymore for this chapter.
> 
> Hey, you should totally check out this server I made: [spicy hot takes!](https://discord.gg/UBpDYdQ) It's a server dedicated to your takes on shows, characters, books, etc. Those theories you have bottled up can be aired out there! And I'm there (assuming you like me) so there's that! Really just join it. Please. (My band needs members, okay?)


	3. Chapter 3

Alex stares at him in shock and Connor sneers at him. He gestures with the gun in his hands roughly. When that doesn’t work to get the man’s ass into gear - as Hank would say - he steps forward with malice clearly evident in his eyes. Alex’s eyes focus on the gun and he raises his hands once again, slowly backing away.

“Morgan--”

Connor shoots the ground in front of the man and bares his teeth. “Call me that one more time and I put one between your eyes.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex says as calmly as he can manage, his voice trembling. “Connor, right? Why don’t you put the gun down so we can talk about this, yeah?”

Connor laughs. Loudly. “Oh, fuck no! I don’t fucking trust you! I’m keeping the gun and you’re keeping your ass right there. Now you’re going to tell me what I want to know or you’re going to die, capiche?”

"Capiche," the man says warily, his eyes shining with exhaustion. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Good," Connor smiles something slow and cruel - mocking. "I'm glad we've reached an understanding. Now, where the hell am I? Don't try and fuck with me either. I know we're in orbit, I'm not stupid. Question is, where? Are we next to the moon or further out?"

Alex looks shocked for a moment but that quickly passes. "Yes, we're in orbit. We're aboard a Transtar space research vessel. We're next to the moon, we've got a basse there for supplies."

"Good, good," Connor nods, the arm raising the gun unwavering. "That makes it a little easier on me, I suppose. Why am I here? Why'd you lie to me,  _ brother _ ?"

"I didn't lie!" Alex defends, his voice strong now. Connor sneers and returns his full attention to the man, looking down his nose, projection an easy air of superiority. “This is what you asked me to do, Mor— Connor, this is what you asked me to do.”

“No, it’s not,” Connor drawls, the sneer now firmly resting on his lips, marring his pretty features. “How many times do I need to say this before you get it through your thick skull? I’m. No. Morgan. So whatever he asked you to do means nothing to me.”

“What happened to you?” Alex despairs. “Why are you acting like this? Is this because we uninstalled so many Neuromods?”

‘Neuromods’?” Connor echoes, his head tilting to the side in a way that is unnervingly akin to that of a hound. “What is a Neuromod?”

“How do you—” Alex begins before he sighs, exhaustion clear on his face. “A Neuromod is a Neural Modifier that was developed by our company, Transtar, that lets people learn skills instantaneously. You— I mean— Morgan— had several of them installed, but he decided he wanted them taken out.”

“And, let me guess, the removal of Neuromods negatively affects people?” Connor asks rhetorically, his voice low and mocking. Alex flushes and nods his head. “What a pity. That’s why you still believe that I’m Morgan, isn’t it? You think the removal of his Neuromods is making him have a dissociative episode, is that right?”

“Yes,” Alex confesses. Connor lets the sneer fall from his lips and smiles, the same cruel, mocking smile from before.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” he says, “but Morgan isn’t coming back.”

“I don’t understand--”

“What is it going to take to get it through your thick skull?” Connor asks, exacerbated and angry. He seethes inwardly and glares at the  _ stupid  _ man in front of him. “If you’re this fucking stupid, maybe I  _ should  _ plant one right between your eyes. It’d be a kindness, wouldn’t it?”

“Morgan, don’t--” the man cuts off, voice halting awkwardly in his throat as he stares at Connor’s hand.

Connor’s pale, gleaming hand, the white of his chassis exposed to the tense air of the room.

Connor grins ferally and laughs. “Do you believe me now?”


	4. Chapter 4

"Yes," Alex says after a moment, eyes wide with horror - and is that grief? - as he stares at the white of Connor's chassis. He sighs and looks away, eyes dark with emotion, face twisted in a pained grimace. "Yes, I believe you now."

Connor smiles. "Good, good. I'm glad we're finally on the same page."

“Where--” the stricken man starts before cutting himself off, gathering his courage, breathing in deeply, putting his sadness away neatly before Connor’s eyes, patching himself up, “where is Morgan then? Why do you look like him?”

“What?” Connor asks, finally allowing his arm to fall, the gun aimed at the floor now that his arm is lax, his brows furrowed in confusion - didn’t he look at himself in the apartment? or was the mirror too clouded? - as he processes this information. “That doesn’t add up. I’ve retained all of my android abilities and capabilities. How do I look like Morgan Yu if I’m still in my own body?”

Alex Yu stares at the ground before meeting his eyes. “I don’t know. But I want to find out. Will you cooperate with us?”

Connor considers it before he shakes his head, cocking his head to the dead Typhon, gun arm raising once more now, eyeing the men in the room with him. “We don’t have the time for that,” he tells the large man, smiling bitterly. “I’m afraid that - despite my warning - the Typhon have broken containment. You might want to issue a station-wide warning. People are dying.”

“What? Shit!” Alex turns to Bellamy and the other scientists and they immediately rush to their tablets and desks, fingers tapping away at screens with desperation fueling them, quickly sending out the appropriate station-wide warnings this exact situation calls for. Connor watches them, detached. Alex turns to him. “How capable are you? Can you defend yourself?”

Connor bares his teeth. “I can do you one better,” he confides. “I’m a state of the art prototype; I’m perfectly capable of defending everyone on this miserable station.”

“And will you?”

“Yes,” Connor answers, finally allowing the pointless rage to leave him, tension bleeding out of his shoulders, unfurling like ink in water. He allows his Social Relations programming to take over and offers the frazzled man a comforting smile - one he copied from a mother reassuring her son. “I will. Don’t worry, Mr. Yu, I always complete my mission.”

“Thank you,” Alex whispers, voice thick with emotion. He reaches up and wipes at his eyes, rubbing his temples as he does. The scientists in the room continue issuing alarms, checking the station’s systems, running over the outside walls for possible breaches; the scan doesn’t come back clear and they murmur to each other worriedly. Alex’s eyes pinch and he turns back to Connor. “I have one more thing to ask of you while we deal with the Typhon.”

“Yes?” Connor asks and the man sighs once more. Connor allows some of his defensiveness to return and regards the man with narrowed eyes, hyperaware of how that makes him look - much more dangerous than his original design; Morgan Yu was an intimidating man.

“Can you pretend to be my broth-- Morgan? Just until we deal with the Typhon,” he reassures quickly when Connor shifts, mouth pinched in displeasure. “I want to keep...this under wraps if I can. Everything heard in this room will be confidential.”

Connor considers it. He nods. “Fine, I can do that.”

“Thank you,” Alex says to him once again. He sighs and turns to the scientists. “Try and keep track of things going on in the station if you can. But not here. We need to leave and get somewhere secure - the Sim Labs aren’t safe. We need to get to one of the Cargo Bays; they have the most security - we should be safe there.”

“Then go,” Connor says, holstering the gun in his suit, thankful for the sewed in utility belt, approaching Alex cautiously, skin still retracted on his hand. “Can you pull up the blueprints for the station, Mr. Yu? I’d like to have a look at them.”

Alex nods, quickly handing over his Transcribe after he’s pulled up the appropriate files. Connor doesn’t take the Transcribe; he simply places his hand on its screen and interfaces with the inferior device, slightly appalled at the lackluster firewalls in his path - isn’t Alex Yu the co-CEO of Transtar?

Once he’s done, he pulls away and allows his nano skin to cover his chassis once again, nodding at Alex stiffly, walking away from the small group of people purposefully. His HUD updates his current mission and he rolls his neck, loosening the tension in his body as he leaves the humans behind him, ignoring their calls as he goes.

> **NEW OBJECTIVE PENDING.....WAITING FOR APPROVAL**
> 
> **APPROVAL PENDING.....CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED**
> 
> **OBJECTIVE UPDATED.....OK**
> 
> **SAVE TALOS I**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, it's very short but at least it's here. I haven't forgotten about this fic! I swear I didn't. It's just been slow so far, but now...now we can begin! Expect longer chapters from here!


	5. Chapter 5

Connor quickly navigates his way through the Sim Lab, searching through the area, picking it clean of supplies. Unfortunately, there aren't any weapons kept outside of Security so he doesn't find another gun - he can make do with the one he'd taken from the officer, but the gun isn't exactly made for long term use; he'll have to upgrade it. And keep an eye out for any more - maybe he can find a rifle? or a shotgun? - just in case. He picks up a wrench from a corpse, coldly looting the dead body - there isn't anything else - before leaving. One gun and a wrench is better than nothing.

Transtar is an  _ interesting  _ company, he finds, as he searches the Sim Lab's staff offices, rooting through drawers and shelves, reading emails, uncovering leads to secrets and evidence. It seems Morgan was involved in an experiment - was it his idea? or Alex's? did they have consent --  _ consistent  _ consent -- from Morgan? - which led to some unfortunate personality drift. Reading through some of the emails, Connor's surprised they kept the tests going for as long as they did - the drifts are in no way small.

He saves the newfound information and swipes a keycard from a desk, stepping over the Typhon corpses to leave the offices, freezing when he's met with a large inky mass standing before him, just behind a thin film of glass - it looks like corded, solid ink stretched over a humanoid wire frame. And it sends a spike of adrenaline through Connor's sensors, the loud static coming off of the creature in waves impending on some of his background programs - not enough to really affect him, just enough to annoy. It sounds like whispers.

The creature rears up, staring at him intently, its many eyes, little stars in the black of its form, regarding him with something that almost seems curious. It doesn't move closer, but its clawed limbs stretch forward, pressing against the cold of the glass, spreading, probing, before it pulls them back to itself and walks away. Connor watches it fade from view, his systems recovering from the slight impedance easily, and lifts a hand to his chest, feeling his racing pulse as he exhales shakily.

The Typhon are strange, he decides. They do not attack him, but they attack every human - that poor man exiting the offices in the Sim Labs, his  _ screams _ \- they come across. It doesn't seem malicious; simply a means to an end. From what Connor's seen, it's how they multiply - almost like they're feeding on consciousness. And that raises a new question; does Connor not have a consciousness? Is that why they leave him be?

An incoming call interrupts him. He blinks at the ID - january, who is january? - allows the call through, answering it with shaking fingers and stuttering lungs. He can still hear faint whispers, the leftover impedance from the large Typhon still being flushes out. Idly, he wonders if he'll be able to upgrade his systems, work a defense against it. He sets a reminder to try once it's safe to do so.

"Hello," he greets after answering, the musings from before easily put away - and he can hear it now, the difference in his voice. It's deeper, more solid with an almost grit like texture to it, less airy and raspy - it reminds him faintly of Hank.

A lance of pain spears his chest and he pushes the thought away, peering at his surroundings warily. He doesn't have to worry about the Typhon, but that doesn't necessarily mean they aren't a threat. Besides, he imagines they'll become more of a problem once he starts exterminating them.

_ "That was a Phantom - Typhon Anthrophantasmus. Hello, Morgan. It's time we spoke."  _ his voice says back, tone flat, informative, like giving a lecture done thousands of times before, rehearsed.  _ "My codename is January." _

"Nice to meet you," Connor says mildly, the sound much more aggressive now - this new voice really is different from his old one. "What are you? Why are you contacting me?"

_ "If you want to know what's going on," _ the voice pauses.  _ "I see you're already out of the Simulation Lab. Good. Now get to your office. There's a video you need to see." _

The call ends abruptly and Connor stands in the hall for a few moments, debating on whether or not he should track the call. He decides not to in the end - he has far more important things to tend to, i.e. saving Talos - and, instead, moves on.

There is a blood trail leading to a sharp turn. He follows it and finds a frozen Typhon and a dead man. He disposes of the Typhon and flips the dead man over, crouching next to the body as he pats at his suit and pockets, finding. The man has a few bandages and medicine so he takes it, marvelling at how small the packaging is compared to those back home. Then he rises from his crouched position, taking the discarded gun - is it a gun? - with him as well as the ammo strewn beside it.

He analyses the gun and connects to the station's network, smiling when the information floods his systems - GLOO gun, perfect for immobilising the Typhon. He steps over the body and enters the foyer, rolling his neck before moving, quickly and methodically killing the Typhon currently swarming the place.

January calls him once again when he's done - likely unintentional. 

_ "Morgan. There - in the foyer,"  _ the voice instructs - what is january? - and he scans the environment, his vision lighting up in bright yellow near the bathrooms, the display there containing something - a Neuromod, surely.  _ "Grab the Neuromod you see in the display case. Normally it's a fake, but I swapped in a real one for you. The Neuromods are critical. You won't survive without using them to install new aptitudes. I've already updated your Transcribe with the list you requested. Take a look." _

The call ends once more and Connor frowns, taking the Neuromod in hand, skin peeling back as he interfaces with the tech - and it is  _ brilliant.  _ It's just like a downloadable skill pack for an android only it's meant specifically for humans, perfectly attuned to their biology to be able to interface with them and share information - to map out new neuro pathways into their brains. 

It's  _ ingenious  _ \- and dangerous. There are adverse side effects to every kind of memory modification. If removed, the subject's memory resets to the day they got the Neuromod - just like the early versions of android skill packs.

Connor sighs and crushes the Neuromod in his hand, watching impassively as a blue liquid runs down his fingers - the shade is similar to that of thirium, which raises a pressing worry he was trying very hard not to think about. 

Where is he going to get thirium?

He bites back a groan, severely annoyed with this world - surely it must be different than his own - and pushes the concern back down. He'll work on figuring out a solution later. For now, he'll do as he's told and look at that list January mentioned.

His first impression of Morgan Yu is that he's very ambitious, but, with the knowledge of the impending Typhon containment breach and the unsavory experiment the man was undergoing, he corrects this. 

Morgan Yu may have been ambitious, he may have been a genius, he may have very well been plain paranoid, but no one can say he wasn't prepared - Connor can contingencies upon contingencies in this list and he won't lie and say he's not impressed. 

Morgan Yu was more than prepared.

Connor feels almost fond as he goes down the list, extremely thankful for his ability to simply download the skills required and for his already existing set - Cyberlife was a little bit like Morgan, in that respect, they wanted him prepared for anything. 

The only skills - aptitudes, as January called them - he's hesitant about are the Typhon sets. They're very useful and they'd certainly help him tremendously with his mission. However, he can't download them. Normally he'd be a bit peeved about this if the answer wasn't staring him in the face.

He already has them.

"Well," Connor says out loud with no one there to hear him but the dead, "that explains a lot."

At least he doesn't have to worry about thirium anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. after how ever many months here it is. the next chapter. posted at last. a true christmas miracle
> 
> quarantine really be testing me guys
> 
> yo check out this server: [spicy hot takes](https://discord.gg/UBpDYdQ)
> 
> [my tumblr is iwishihadbrain if you wanna chat](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/iwishihadbrain)


	6. Chapter 6

Connor stands there for a few minutes - spending far too much time on this new discovery - before he finally moves, dropping the demolished Neuromod at his feet, carelessly stepping on it as he walks to the door, mind buzzing on the new information.

Morgan Yu was a Typhon.

As he presses the door, stepping through the doorway almost mechanically when the metal door slowly opens, he mulls over the discovery, digesting it slowly as it leads to another. He slowly walks down the hall, nearing the door at the end as he ponders.

It doesn't explain how he got here, why he's in Morgan's body at all, what happened to the man in the process - it doesn't explain _ any _ of that. But it does explain how he's still an android - or, at least, why he _ appears _ to still be one.

The Typhon are known for their mimicry, after all. And it only makes sense for him to subconsciously mimic the state of being he's most comfortable, most familiar with. It's what the Typhon _ do. _ And he's one of them now.

How strange.

He exits the hall and steps out into the main lobby, shaking off the shock the revelation brought easily enough. He quickly makes his way through the lobby, scouring the area for anything useful before he relaxes only to be _ shot _ at by _ fucking turret. _

He swallows down an indignant shout and hacks into the station's network, easily writing himself in as a exception to the turret's programming, hiding behind a sofa as he waits for them to get the update, frowning at the bullet lodged deep in his arm.

He's not bleeding - no blue -- or red or maybe even black -- liquid seeps from the wound. It's simply a hole in his arm.

His fingers easily dig the offending piece of metal out - it was so _ deep _ and yet he got it out so _ easily _ \- and he grimaces at the strange feeling - and how did he not notice before? how _ dulled _ sensation is? how even his strongest grip feels like _ nothing? _ how when he crushed that Neuromod, he didn't feel a thing? how did he not notice? - flicking the bullet away with a disdainful sniff before pushing himself up, grateful that the station's firewalls are so weak compared to his programming - the _ mimic _ of his programming.

_ "You made it," _ January says - and the connection is much easier to hold now, almost like his body has relaxed now that he knows what he is - and he hums an affirmative. _ "Good. Your office is close. Get to it. I know you have a lot of questions." _

"Roger that," Connor says sarcastically, sick of being ordered around. He rolls his neck and ignores the Typhon roaming around, leaving them to the turrets, and makes his way to the office, climbing up the stairs.

Once he's at the door - and he's searched the offices near Morgan's -- Bellamy used to be stationed here, moved only because of the testing, per Morgan's suggestion -- he draws himself together, holding his gun at the ready before punching in the code and stepping through the door.

There's no one inside.

_ "Welcome back," _ January greets regardless. _ "This has been your home for the last three years. The video should be on your workstation." _

_Three years?_ Connor wants to scream. _Three fucking years?_ _How long have those tests been going on? How long have they kept him - _**_me, us _**_\- there?_

He seethes, his teeth set on edge, his gums _ aching, _ and his jaw clenching. He breathes harshly through his nose and rounds his desk, logging onto his workstation, selecting the video - _ 'Hello, Morgan. This LGV file should clear things up. Make sure you're alone when you hit play.' _Before he selects play, he pauses and looks around the office, eyes narrowed and considering.

His fingers clench and he heaves in another harsh breath, stepping away from the desk to search the room - he can't get too comfortable just yet, there might be something -- maybe even _ someone _\-- in here with him. Thankfully, he doesn't find anything threatening - nothing alive with malicious intent - but he does find a peculiar device.

It's a strange type of headgear - it would almost look like a helmet if not for the circular scanning tech locaed on the front, set right in front of the eyes. Connor gingerly takes it out of the locker and gently rotates it in his hands, scanning the devices as the skin on his hands recedes to interface with the tech - observing, prepared to download its programming if it proves to be an advantageous move.

_"The pyschoscope was a breakthrough. Apart from Neuromods, it's the most important tech on Talos I," _January explains as if it had seen him pick it up. He tenses and quickly covers his chassis once more. January doesn't comment on it. _"You used it to_ _scan the Typhon organisms, to figure out what makes them tick. It'd be prudent to do so again. You invented it, by the way."_

Morgan Yu invented it? That's…..

"Impressive," Connor murmurs to himself, flipping the device around to peer inside it. It almost reminds him of his own world, the minimalistic style reminiscent to Cyberlife in many ways.

His fingers twitch and he exhales roughly, fingernails digging into the cushioning inside. He rolls his shoulders and closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a small reprieve before opening them once more to look at the device held in hands that aren't his, slowly raising the psychoscope to a head that isn't his, looking through the lense with eyes that aren't his, breathing with lungs that aren't his, living in a world that isn't his own.

It's almost funny how lonely he suddenly is.

Connor decides to keep the psychoscope. It works well as a helmet - more protective gear - and keeps his systems and programming that much clearer - he doesn't want to take up too much storage space though he supposes that doesn't really matter anymore. Either way, it's much wiser to keep it as is - for now, at least.

He raises a hand to mess with a button located in the left side and delights when the circular lense raises immediately, freeing his vision from the cycling blue-tinted screen that had overtaken it before. Morgan really thought of everything, didn't he?

With that done, he spins on his heel and approaches the desk once more, taking a seat in the chair - it's _ very _ comfortable, which isn't overly surprising considering Morgan's _ former _ position - and selects play before he can find another reason to prolong the inevitable.

Immediately the lights dim and a shutter rolls over the windows, blocking the lobby from his sight. His lips tighten in displeasure and a light shines from behind him, illuminating the room in a soft white light. He turns the chair and watches the screen - a Looking Glass screen - as it loads the video.

And then, suddenly, there he is - Morgan Yu - alone in that room in the Sim Labs -- the one with the strange chair that frightened Connor for a reason he couldn't name. 

The man looks tired - a quiet hysteria lives in his eyes - and he reminds Connor of himself. 

They were both betrayed - both of them were _ forced _ to participate in experiments and tests they hadn't wanted any part of, both of them were selected for a mission they agreed to do in the beginning, a mission they grew to know was _ wrong _.

They weren't given a choice - only an illusion of choice was presented and they believed the ones who held it -- because they'd thought they were loved. 

And maybe they were. But not enough.

Something inside him - deep, deep inside, underneath all of the fake circuitry and tubes and thirium tracts, past all of the inhuman matter, in the center of his psyche - positively _ aches _ at the sight of Morgan Yu. It feels like someone's pulling at his chassis, slowly ripping his chest plate off, nails digging into the soft synthetic flesh underneath cruelly, scratching at his thirium pump - a stabbing pain, a lance of it straight through his center, pulsating through his body to linger in his extremities. It feels like mourning.

Connor finds himself standing and approaching the glass when Morgan Yu begins speaking, a dry humor on his face, contrasting with the steel of his eyes.

_ "Hello, Morgan.Tough day, right? If I'm talking to myself, it must be, _" the man whose body he currently inhabits says. He leans back in his chair and sighs. 

Connor reaches up and touches his face, fingers feeling the stubble there, the strong, almost hooked nose, the high cheekbones, the eyes, the wide, sharp jaw. 

He doesn't recognize any of these features. They are not his own.

But they're the man's in the screen.

_ "Your memory's shot full of holes, I know. I'm sorry, but it's permanent," _ he seems truly saddened by that, his face twisting into something sickened before he inhales, calming once more. He leans forward again and gestures to the inactive Operator on the ground next to his chair. _"__The first thing you need to know is you can trust January. It's an Operator, a sort of back-up of you and me. It knows what you've forgotten." _

"January," Connor says aloud, "so that's what you are."

_ Once again, Morgan Yu, _ he thinks to himself, _ impressive. You continue to surprise me. _

_ "We've been testing a new kind of Neuromod based on the Typhon organisms. Mapping their neuropatterns onto ours. Problem is, when you uninstall a Neuromod it resets your memory back to the moment you first put it in. That's why you forgot," _ Morgan Yu explains, his voice informative, straight to the point - like January's; they have the same voice. _ "There's supposed to be a process to bring you back up to speed between test runs. But….someone could just skip that part. Turn a single day into your entire life!" _

He's upset now. And he's trying not to be. But Connor can see it in his eyes - they're dangerous - in the way he holds his shoulders, almost hunched over, as if he's about to lunge forward and attempt to attack through the screen. 

Connor wonders if he knew his teeth were bared. He wonders if he knew his eyes flashed black-white, if he knew his skin seemed to shift in his sudden rage, a wisp of black clinging to his clenched fists.

He wonders if he knew how _ inhuman _ he had looked then - how like a Typhon he was in that moment.

_ "Well. That's exactly what Alex did. The question is: why?" _ he looks off to the side in silence, the anger gone replaces by numbness. He looks so still, frozen, vacant. ** _Hurt_ ** . _ "You're not going to like what I have to say next---" _

The video ends abruptly, the screen bright red, big, bold letters displaying 'CONNECTION LOST.' There's a loud alarm emitanting from the screen before it stops, static following in its absence. Connor turns away from the screen and stares at his hands -_ Morgan's _hands - in a daze.

_ "Sorry, Morgan. Someone's cut us off from the Looking Glass severs. Time to improvise," _January says. Connor is starting to suspect that the connection between them is always online.

"Where are the servers located?" he asks quickly, pulling his pilfered gun out of the back of his utility belt, checking the magazine - full with two more stored in his belt - before shoving it back it and cocking it.

_ "Hm. They should be in Dr. Calvino's workshop in the Hardware Labs. He invented the Looking Glass technology. You might find a way to restore the server connections there," _ January muses. _ "I'm looking for a way to help you in the meantime. Good luck." _

"Thanks," he says, locking the door to his office behind him, leaving the Executive Offices for the Teleconferencing Center.

There's a dead man on the floor - Security Officer: Elias Black - and four Tyhpon in the room with him. Connor surveys the room and located their positions - two near Black -- one pretending to be a gun, one a binder -- and two near the exit -- a chair and ashtray.

He raises his gun and aims carefully, breathing out slowly to calm his nerves. Then he opens his eyes and shoots, taking them all out as quickly and efficiently as possible. 

And it's a little odd - but he thought he could almost hear them for a second there. Whispers. Resonating whispers in his head. Almost indistinguishable from his own thoughts - like they _ were _ his thoughts. 

"That's ridiculous," he reassures himself as he moves through the Center, exiting the room and entering an area with a bridge. 

The Hardware Labs are to his right, but he's not entirely sure he's ready to fave whatever is there yet. He only has three full maganzines and he could use much more than that - not to mention the GLOO canon could be extremely useful, but he doesn't know how his fire rate with it will be. 

He could use more resources, so he straightens and sets off the the left, crossing the bridge to the Sales Division. He enters the room and bites back a startled shout when he sees a Phantom _ directly _ in front of him.

He levels the gun at it and breathes in slowly through his nose. He's never killed one of these before. How many bullets will it take? Will it attack him if he shoots? Will it know it was him? How do they attack? How much damage can they do?

Can they kill him as easily as they did those humans?

He freezes and he mind halts along with his body. He feels the same as he did during the tests - floaty and dazed, not all here, physically present but not seeing or hearing or feeling.

And then his shoulders start tingling - almost _ burning _ \- the strange sensation travelling down his arms to rest in his fingertips, rising to a crescendo that jolts him back to reality to hard he almost bites clean through his lip to stifle his vocalization. 

The Phantom has stopped roaming around the room. It's facing him, slowing outstretching its strange tendrils of inky-black to him, the loud thuds of its footsteps resonating in his chest with every overwhelming beat of his heart.

It gets too close.

His breathe hitches. And then his fingers _ explode. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo what up? how're you guys doing? me? i'm doing excellent. have a new chapter 
> 
> check out this server: [spicy hot takes](https://discord.gg/UBpDYdQ)
> 
> [my tumblr is iwishihadbrain if you wanna chat](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/iwishihadbrain)

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help myself, alright? I mean, just think of all the angst opportunities you have in this kind of crossover. They are endless! If you can't tell already, I'm excited. Also, don't worry if you've never played Prey before. I'm fairly sure you'll be able to follow along without knowing the plot of Prey. Anyway, leave a comment and let me know what you think! Feedback is always appreciated <3 <3 <3!
> 
> Hey, you should totally check out this server I made:[spicy hot takes!](https://discord.gg/UBpDYdQ) It's a server dedicated to your takes on shows, characters, books, etc. Those theories you have bottled up can be aired out there! And I'm there (assuming you like me) so there's that!
> 
> [ As always, my Tumblr is iwishihadbrain.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/iwishihadbrain)


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